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His hand moves from my wrist to my waist. The heat of his palm sinks through my shirt. “Say it.” Ross draws a slow breath.

“You.”

The word barely leaves my mouth before he kisses me. His mouth is warm and firm, his hand steady at my waist, the other cupping my cheek. For one stunned second, I forget to react. Then I kiss him back—months of teasing turn into one breathless moment. When we finally separate, I rest my forehead against his.

“Well,” I whisper.

“Don't.” His voice sounds gruff.

“I was just going to say."

“Don't ruin it.” He interrupts.

I laugh softly and there it is—Ross is smiling at me. A smile. Small. Rare. Mine. My heart does something dangerous. I want to keep it. I want to keep him.

seven

Ross

Kissing Kira was a mistake. I know this because I have thought about doing it again approximately every thirty seconds since I left Temptation Ink. A mistake shouldn't feel that good. A mistake shouldn't make the world seem sharper. A mistake definitely shouldn't make me grin while unloading coffee beans.

“You’re smiling.” Brandi sets down a carton of cups.

“No, I’m not,”

“You are,” Brandi insists, leaning against the counter.

“Something wrong with smiling?” I ask, cutting open another bag.

All three sisters stop what they're doing. Heather slowly points at me. “Who are you and what have you done with our brother?”

I glare causing them to laugh. I should tell them but, I don't. Not because I'm ashamed. Because the kiss feels private—fragile. Like if I let the whole town touch it too soon, I'll lose it. That lasts until the next day at the fall festival. Mountain towns treat autumn like a competitive sport. Pumpkins sit on every porch, hay bales line every corner, and the air is so thick with cinnamon it could permanently alter a man's lungs. Mountain Grind has a booth near Temptation Ink's temporary flash-tattoo tent. Convenient. Or torture. I haven't decided. Then I see Kira talking to a man I don't recognize. He's tall. Blond. Smiling too much. Kira laughs at something he says.

My mood drops ten degrees. This is ridiculous. She is allowed to talk to men. She's allowed to laugh. She's allowed to do whatever she wants because we shared one kiss, not vows. The rational part of my brain makes an excellent argument. The rest of me wants to carry Blondie to the edge of town and point him toward the highway.

“Uh-oh,” Heather murmurs.

“What?”

“Your caveman face is showing.” Heather grins nodding at Kira and the blond guy.

“I don't have a caveman face.”

“You do when men talk to Kira.”

“I don't care who talks to Kira.” I raise my eyebrows.

She looks toward the tattoo tent. “Then you won't mind that he's touching her arm.”

My head snaps around causing Heather to laugh. “I'm going to fire you.” I draw a breath.

“You can't. I'm part owner.”

I stalk toward the tent anyway. Kira sees me coming and her smile changes. That alone cools some of the jealousy—some.

“Ross, this is Evan. We went to art school together.” Kira introduces blondie to me.

Evan offers his hand. “I've heard about you.”